


Gunpowder Keg

by blehbleh456



Category: The Gideon Trilogy
Genre: 18th Century, Historical References, Horror, Multi, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:42:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23581801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blehbleh456/pseuds/blehbleh456
Summary: The universe worked in mysterious ways. Depositing a hapless college student into the 18th century was one such instance.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Gunpowder Keg

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to Banani629 and MontmartreParapluie for beta'ing!

The impact hit him like a brick wall. There was pain. Extreme pain, coupled with red hot flashes and a dull throbbing in the back of his head. 

Then cold. He felt as if a thousand metal knives were gliding across him, stabbing at him from all angles. 

Next, the sensation of being a sack filled with flour. Water flooded him like the Nile, threading through the sandy shores of his lungs. Chug, chug, chug. A tiny bubble formed, shiny and pearlescent in its individuality. It rose to the distant surface, eventually shrinking to a faint shimmer. 

The water continued invading his body until he felt like a bloated balloon, ready to pop at the slightest pressure. His limbs floated uselessly at his side like an inflatable mannequin randomly jerking its vibrant arms over a row of shiny cars. The throbbing increased tenfold. The flashes merged from red to blue. Blue to waves of silver. Silver faded into black like the dimming lights of a cinema. Darkness. His brain gave a numb acquiescence as he lost consciousness.

…

At first, there was nothing. The darkness enveloped him like the long-forgotten arms of a friend until it became suffocating. He didn’t know how long he had been here. Whether a minute or a century had gone by. All he knew was the eternal night. 

He slept. Slept like a princess under a spell in one of the distant memories of a soothing voice narrating tales from a colorful box. Except there was no knight in flashing armour to rescue him, nor a happy ending. Or an ending at all. Existence dragged on with a nonexistent light at the end of the tunnel. After the deep ache of loss subsided, he would have screamed if he had a corporeal body.

...

Screams filled the air. High pitched shrieks of hatred and loathing towards the disturber of his peace. A blinding light hit him, cold and merciless, and the sensation of feeling like a piece of raw meat racked his tiny body. He let out a battle cry of defiance as two rough claws lifted him, inspected him with cold interest, and deposited him into welcoming arms. A cradle of white hands and lavender water gently cupped his head and stroked his cheek like feathers. Images of wings with metallic gold and shimmering azure suddenly popped up in his mind, then disappeared like a faint mist.

The cradle rocked and started humming a sweet tune, the vibrations from the melody running down his tiny spine like the purr of a cat. The rhythm pulled him into a sleepy trance, almost pushing him to the verge of sleep, when a loud bang reverberated through the room. His eyes groggily struggled to open, and then was snatched away by the rough claws. He opened his mouth, his screams intertwining with the cries of the woman into a twisted chorus of agony. Shards of glass sprayed everywhere, some catching the roughened claws. A faint grunt sounded from the creature as trickles of red ran down and soaked into the woollen blanket enclosing him.

…

The rush of cold air was a drastic change to the boiling atmosphere of the room. His now sore throat threatened to start a new round when the claw smothered his mouth. A new melody rose, an earthier and hollower version of the sweet tune he had heard before. He almost was lulled into dreamland again when the crone licked her dry lips. Her jowls jiggled, and four words haunted the baby as she opened her mouth to fire another round of crying and screeching.

“What a pretty girl!”


End file.
